Thursday, February 21, 2008

flapping skin skirts ...

when i complained about my broken pelvis parts, i was told my keister would callous up and that i would soon get used to the seat of a spin bike. so everytime i plopped onto one, the word callous echoed in my mind: you're callousing. that's just going to callous right up. christa and the case of the keister callous. ... and everytime, after about a 15-mile gouge was taken out of my rump and the 112-mile goal this month, i'd start to get a little uncomfortable.

i'd shift so i was sitting up straight, like backbrace biking barbie; then i'd hunker over the handlebars like it was the surface of a bar; then i'd drape myself further over bike that looked like i didn't even have to be awake to do this. my last ditch balancing effort included book in one hand, sitting straight up, right palm pressed into the seat's peninsula to take weight off my butt. [the aforementioned has been referred to as 'bony' before by the various people who have had to carry me to and fro on their lap, but never until recently, have i actually feared these serated butt blades would make clean incisions and threaten to saw out a sort of flapping skin-skirt that i could hang over the back of the bike seat.

i've fallen behind in the YMCA's month-long couch potato triathlon, neglecting primarily the pool. i've completed 25 of the 87 laps, the same meager tally of two weeks ago. as you know, last week i decided to instead drown myself in amber boch instead of the 25-meter fecal-matter stew. today i planned to do a short run, and then swim until i was pruned to three times my age. until i eminated a certain eau de chlorine. until i had done at least 20 laps.

so i did a quick run and just as i was winding down, the front desk announced that the pool would be closed for the rest of the night. i said "shit!" loudly and without the usual remorse that i'd once again sullied a family environment.

why would you close the pool two and a half hours early? every reason i can think of involves children and their natural inclinations toward bodies of water. and that scene from caddyshack.

i decided, instead, to finish the biking portion. get at least one thing knocked off the list. and that is how i came to bike 37 miles today. [only to get home later and realize i had only needed 35 miles ... doh. math.]

as for the callouses? let's call them blisters. plural. plural-plural. lined up all over my special sitting place. this means that if i am going to make biking my cross train of choice, i have to nurture these buggers. let my bottom know that this is how we are going to feel now. show my butt who is boss. this means i am going to need an IKEA bike-seat shaped couch cushion. and a bike-seat shaped toilet.

3 comments:

CDP said...

Every time I swim at the indoor pool or at my neighborhood pool in the summer, I try as hard as I can NOT to think of what small children (my own included) might or might not have done in the water. Now the phrase "fecal matter stew" is going to be permanently imprinted on my consciousness. Thanks.

L Sass said...

Ew... cdp's comment is exactly why I avoid the pool at my gym, even though swimming is such good exercise.

Maurey Pierce said...

Sorry to hear about your keister. Really, it took me maybe 3 times!

I'm having trouble with the swimming part, too. It takes so long just to get ready, and then to clean up after. Hard to harness motivation to jump in.

Fortunately, kids aren't allowed at my fitness center, but really blechy old people are.